Analogical Models in Architecture PDF

METUJFA 1988
(8:2) 161-188
ANALOGICAL MODELS IN ARCHITECTURE

AND URBAN DESIGN l
Chris ABEL
Received,31.10.1988; INTRODUCTION
Keyword» : Architectural Design, Architectural
Theory, Analogical Models
In an earlier article, "Function of Tacit Knowing in Learning to Design!' (Abel,
1. This article was originally written in April 1981c), I suggested that design researchers need to pay more attention to the way
1984 as an introduction to theory of architects actually create their designs, rather than relying on the idealized models
architecture, suitable for courses on that subject.
of design processes dreamed up by themselves. This article is intended to help
fill that need, and outlines the major types of analogical models used by
architects, together with some straightforward explanations of the main concepts
involved.
The assumptive philosophy underpinning the approach is based in part on what
I have called "critical relativism" (Abel, 1980b), a philosophy best known by
the works of Thomas Kuhn (1962; 1977) and Paul Feyerabend (1975). Other
key sources include the writings of Gİanbattista Vico (1968), George Herbert
Mead (1934) and Ludwig Wittgenstein (1953) on language, Ernst Cassirer (1955)
on culture-forms, Michael Polanyi (1958; 1966; 1975) on tacit knowledge,
Hans-Georg Gadamer (1976) and Jurgen Habermas (1968) on hermeneutics, and
Arthur Koestler (1964), Donald Schon (1963), Gordon Pask (1976) and othe'rs
on metaphorical theories of innovation. This article therefore brings together in
a simplified and summary form many of those theoretical constructs whose
relevance for architectural theory I have explained elsewhere at greater length
(Abel, 1968; 1980; 1981a; 1981b; 1981c; 1982a; 1982b; 1984; 1986a; 1986b), and
which comprise the main elements of a comprehensive theory of architecture, and
by extension, architectural education. It is also acknowledged here that
architecture and urban design are historically related through the use of similar
theoretical models, architects being influential at the larger scale of design
activity. Though most of the examples given are drawn from Western
architecture, the approach is suitable in principle for understanding other
forms, particularly in the Muslim world, where there has been considerable
cultural exchange with the West in past history as well as in the present.
FRAGMENTATION OF KNOWLEDGE **
Despite all the lip service paid to architecture as a "holistic design activity" and so
forth, educators and researchers are heavily reliant upon concepts and methods, such
as the schemas used by Geoffrey Broadbent (1973) and by Arnold Friedmann
et al. (1978), which aim to break down their complex subject into more
162 (METU JFA 1988) CHRIS ABEL
manageable components. In my own classes, I have also found it convenient

when referring to more specific aspects of architectural design, to use the
following briefly defined categories of issues. Eachjs given below with its
associated disciplines, which provide the main sources of relevant knowledge:
1. Location (geography, geology, ecology, climatology). Since all buildings,
unlike other designed objects, must stand on some piece of ground somewhere,
it is sensible to start with this category. Knowing the location of a building
tells us what we need to know about such related factors as the climate,
landscape, surrounding buildings, etc.
2. Social form (philosophy, anthropology, sociology, history, economics, politics).
All problems of the function of a building derive from the kind of social forms
and institutions involved, which define the accepted norms of behaviour
and shared goals of the people who will use the building.
3. Building type (typology, morphology, planning). This category is closely
tied up with that of social form, since a building type is identified whenever
similar building forms are recognised as serving similar social functions.
4. Technology (engineering, building materials and construction). This category
covers building materials, whether natural or man-made, and the manual or
Figure l, 2. Curtain-walled office building in mechanical means by which they are produced and assembled into the
Dallas, above, presents an identical image, completed building.
irrespective of regional differences, to the
building in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, shown below 5. Cost (economics, quantity surveying, building management). Problems of the
(photograph by author)
cost of building include not only the normal financial constraints on
construction costs, but may also increasingly relate to the broader issues of the
commercial viability of a design as a speculative development.
6. Aesthetics (philosophy, art). The last category includes all those especially
difficult problems which have to do with how we judge a building to be visually
pleasing or not. In a broader sense, it is that aspect through which architects
have traditionally been most concerned with issues of the meaning of their
designs for society at large.
However, though these and similar categories have their uses in helping teachers
and researchers to develop partial studies of architecture in some depth, it is a
gross error to believe that by simply totalling up the resultant specialised
knowledge, we arrive at any kind of useful understanding of what architecture
is as a subject in its own right. Worse, in no way do such taxonomies offer any
kind of effective method of teaching students how to design a building.
On the contrary, by taking the untidy business of architectural design apart
in this way and serving it up in the neater form of narrow specialisms (an
expedient dictated as much by professional career demands as by intellectual
shortcomings), attention is effectively diverted away from those essential
attributes of architecture which serve to bind together all of its multifarious
aspects. What this approach leaves us with then, is all parts, and no whole.
The central problem can be put this way. Using the above categories, we could
easily come up with some long list of issues that any architect must deal with
in order to design a building. In fact, these sorts of lists have been popular with
many so-called design methodologists since the 1960s (Broadbent and Ward,
1969). However, if we try to do this on the basis of treating each issue as part
of a separate category or set of problems, we cannot get very far without further
vital kinds of information. For example, we do not yet know what importance
to attach to any category or specific problem in relation to all the others. We
could of course assume that they are all equally important, and that all architects
treat all issues of design in a similar way. Theorists of an orthodox Modernist
bent t used to "think like this and many teachers still believe this is the way to
understand things. In this case, we would not need to know much more, and
could analyze all buildings according to the same "universal" criteria.
But, things are just not that easy. Different architects, even at the same point
in history, but especially at different times, can attach various meanings to each
ANALOGICAL MODELS IN ARCHITECTURE {METU JFA 1988) 163
of the categories and the issues they encompass, and the forms of their buildings
differ accordingly. To take one of the most obvious examples, one architect may
hold factors of location to be amongst his most important considerations, and will
carefully design his building to suit the local climate and the built and natural
landscape. Another will not only rely entirely on mechanical air-conditioning
to control the internal environment of his building, but may also ignore the
man-made and natural context in which his building stands. Instead, he may
prefer to design his building as a large-scale sculpture, or even model it on the
forms of the machines he relies on so heavily. In this case, "technology" acquires
a special significance that differs in fundamental respects to the way the former
Figure 3. Part of new campus designed by architect might treat the "same" aspect of architecture. So without knowing how
Summet Jumsai for Thammasat University
near Bangkok, Thailand. Jumsai's regionalism an architect interprets each of the categories and what values he places on them,
is inspired by South East Asian "houses-on- our understanding of the process of architectural design is incomplete.
stilts" as well, as planning principles of the
"temple city" of Angkor Thorn, Cambodia.
The design responds to both the local climate
and landscape as well as the functional needs INTEGRATING IDEAS
of a modern university (photograph by author)
The plain answer to this question is that a mature architect does not consider
any of these issues separately at all. He designs a building according to his
preferred theoretical model of architecture. This theoretical model constitutes
an a priori system of integrating ideas or interpretive framework which largely
predetermines all the relations between the different factors the architect must
consider, and the values he attaches to any of them. And since there is a large
number of quite different models to choose from in today's pluralistic culture,
the system of relations between these factors will vary according to which model
the architect is using. Therefore, unless we know the model an architect
is using, consciously or not, it is quite impossible to understand the meaning
and values he attaches to problems of location, social form, etc., and the way
he relates all these issues together in his design.
The idea of a theoretical model, as posited here, therefore provides the "binding
agent" which holds architecture together and lends to it those holistic qualities
so frequently referred to, but rarely accounted for.
I use "model" in both senses of the word as commonly understood. First, it can
refer to a form of building, or even one specific building, which sets standards
for others to emulate. But though the transfer of form and method from model
to new building is therefore direct, the cognitive processes involved are little
understood, since they involve tacit, as well as explicit forms of knowledge
(Abel, 1981c). And although it is not widely acknowledged, this applies as much
to the use of models by professional architects, as by the non -professional builders
we associate with traditional societies. Distinctions between "self-conscious"
and "unself-conscious " ways of building (Alexander, 1964) can therefore be
extremely misleading, in so far as they direct attention away from the significant
function of models in the transfer of knowledge of building from architect to
architect in developed societies, as in less developed ones.
More accurately, what distinguishes the use of models in advanced societies from
their use in traditional societies is the development of architecture, coincidental
with the emergence of an historical awareness and professional recognition, to
the point where it begins to acquire distinctive operational characteristics as a
"form of life" (in the sense of Wittgenstein, 1953) in its own right (Abel, 1979;
1984). This results in what I shall call a potential "slippage" between the
development of architecture and that of other culture forms. It is this degree.
of separation marked by historical awareness and professional evolution (apparent
already in such complex pre-industrial cultures as ancient Rome) which largely
provides architects with that extra room for creative manoeuver which is absent
from those relatively closed societies we call traditional (Briggs, 1974; Kostof,
1977). In these circumstances, the relations between architecture and other
culture forms are properly described in the terms of a creative interaction or
"dialogue" between distinctive forms of life, rather than in the isomorphic terms
we use to describe the highly integrated culture forms of traditional societies.
It is in this more open cultural environment, that we find the emergence of the
second kind of model. This kind involves a process of abstraction, whereby
certain essential characteristics of one thing, the model, are used to provide a
conceptual basis from which something new may be developed. For example,
the contrasting architectural attitudes towards local factors of site and climate
mentioned above derive, in the one case, from analogies with known
characteristics of organic forms, and in the other, with Modern abstract sculpture,
or the properties of machines.
All theoretical models, even in science, are based on analogies of this sort between
two things, the familiar source idea and something in need of resolution, which
may usefully be thought of in terms of the source idea (Leatherdale, 1974).
Thus, as "theories", they help us to reduce our uncertainty about some aspect of
our world, and so help us to deal with that world in a more effective and
satisfying way. As "models" they achieve this result by making some connection
to something already known to us. At the same time it should be emphasized
that the basis of such analogies is always highly selective, involving only those
features which interest us most, and ignoring those which do not.
Analogical models used in architectural design also work in just this way. The
unknown thing in this case is the building to be designed, meaning the system
of relations between all the different factors an architect must consider in creating
a building. The system of relations which tells him, for example, what specific
interpretation and value he should place on each factor in relation to all the rest.
From the point of view of the way analogical models serve as a practical guide
to the architect, we can describe their function as prescriptive. They suggest
to architects what to build and how to build. But as students and researchers,
we can make use of these same models, once they have been identified, to explain
why an architect designs a building the way he does, and not some other way.
Used in this fashion, analogical models are explanatory. But what about the use
of such models as predictive tools of the sort favoured by physical scientists?
Well, if human beings behaved like deterministic machines, we might be able
to predict with some precision the results of different approaches to design.
But since they do not (though some famous architects once thought they did),
the use of analogical models for this purpose is mostly restricted to problems
of structure, use of energy, and similar quantifiables (Friedman et al., 1978).
TYPES OF MODELS
All the fifteen analogical models described below share the foregoing defining
properties and functions. However, I have divided them into two groups,
according to one important distinction. The first eleven models have all been
demonstrated by their actual use by architects to provide direct and powerful
sources of formal imagery. The particular metaphor or set of metaphors involved
therefore have this distinctive quality as sources of visual and spatial inspiration.
Most also share certain qualities as near timeless sources of inspiration. Their
very persistence, sometimes over several millennia, not only testifies to their
deep roots in enduring myths and perhaps universal themes, but also to the
creative potential involved in the metaphorical process. The resultant historical
perspective is therefore very different from the familiar sequential "progression"
from one architectural development to the next. This latter kind of architectural
history can be very misleading, in that it obscures the recycling and continuity
of architectural ideas, while the present approach emphasizes these aspects.
The last four models, though also analogical in nature, refer to different kinds
of metaphors,' which all have to do with processes of one sort or another. None
of these models leads directly in any meaningful sense to a specific or concrete
conception of the form of a building. They do of course influence an architect's
approach in such a way that, indirectly, he is inspired to design a building one way
rather than another. But the power of the other models to invoke a tangible
conception of what a building should look like, remains an important
ANALOGICAL MODELS IN ARCHITECTURE (METU JFA 1988) 165
distinguishing characteristic. Further, the distinction points to a recent theoretical

and educational development, namely an increasing awareness of the significance
of "process" in architectural and urban design, an issue we shall return to in
conclusion.
It should be emphasized that while some of these models are mutually exclusive,
that is, they express opposite values, other models may, and have been
frequently used in combination with each other. For example, the work of
Le Corbusier is mentioned several times, not only because of his towering status
as a twentieth century architect, but because he successfully made use of different
theoretical models. Thus his work may be variously interpreted according to the
Classical, Mechanical and Artistic models, depending upon which phase or aspect
of his architecture the interpreter is most concerned with. More generally, the
Organic model overlaps in some respects with the Identity model, the Utopian
model overlaps with the Classical model, and even, during one period, with the
Military model, and so on. Even process models may sometimes be used in
combination with the more visually oriented models. For example, the Systems
model lends support to the ecological concerns of architects favouring the
Organic model, and the Linguistic and Identity models are now influenced by
the Semiotic model.
It may also be noted that a common theme can be seen running through some
models, which revolves around the opposition between rational and romantic
attitudes toward architecture, and life in general. The former emphasizes the
virtues of pure reason, and takes the achievements of scientists as an example
which should be imitated in all other fields, leading eventually to forms of society
governed by pure reason, and therefore supposedly universal. This attitude tends
to result in "international" forms of architecture. The latter attitude emphasizes the
so-called irrational aspects of human behaviour, favouring the more casual, organic
forms of growth and change against the perfect forms produced by pure reason.
Differences between cultures are expressed, rather than rejected, and human
diversity appreciated as a source of inspiration, rather than the more abstract
speculations of the mind. Though these two approaches may seem to differ
so much, history suggests they are both necessary to human development, and
complement each other as two sides of the same coin.
Finally, in drawing up the following list, special acknowledgement is due to
Peter Collins (1965), for his Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture. The main
reason for the differences in Collins ' shorter list of analogical models and my
own more inclusive one is that I accord a far wider significance to the
metaphorical process in all architectural development. This wider significance
derives in turn from the general theory of creativity employed here, and detailed
in my previous writings (Abel, 1980b; 1982b).
FORMAL ANALOGIES
THE SPIRITUAL MODEL

This model is historically the oldest, and has its roots in the most profound
human beliefs. As William Lethaby (1974) explains in his Architecture, Mysticism
and Myth, it is with the design of religious buildings that man symbolizes his
relation to the cosmic order.
How an architect interprets this model therefore depends upon his specific
religious beliefs. For example, Christians stand in awe and fear of God as the
supreme authority, and Gothic cathedrals express this sense of wonder at the
power of God and the consequent humbleness of man. This is mainly achieved
by the skillful handling of the natural light inside the building and the soaring
vertical interior spaces which lead the eye, and the "spirit", upward.
The characteristic transparency of the Gothic cathedral was made possible by
Figures 4, 5. Exterior and interior of Noire separating the supporting structure of external buttresses from the space enclosing
Dame Cathedral, Paris (photographs by author) walls. In this way, the walls, since they bore little load, could be opened up
with great windows which allowed natural light to flood the interior. The richly
coloured patterns of stained glass which filled those windows and which are
such a familiar feature of these cathedrals lent a further mystical quality to the
light, which always beamed down "from above", since the largest windows
were mounted very high. As Christian Norberg-Schulz (1974) describes it: "In
the cathedrals coloured glass transformed natural light into a mysterious medium
which seemed to prove the immediate presence of God".
Though the Spiritual model mostly relates to the design of places of worship,
it may also determine the relation of those buildings to others in the surrounding
settlement pattern. In this way, Gothic cathedrals typically dominate the medieval
Figure 6. Outline of Mont St. Michel expresses towns in which they stand, but through their transparent frames, affect a
perfectly the dominant position of the church
as well as the compact form of the fortified penetration between outside and inside which seems to draw in the surrounding
medieval town (photograph by author) community "into the arms of God" (Norberg-Schulz, 1974).
THE CLASSICAL MODEL

When we say that an architect in the West uses the Classical model as the basis for
his theory of architecture, it usually means that he looks back in history
to the architecture of ancient Greece and Rome as his main source of inspiration.
He is generally so motivated on the assumption that ancient Greek and Roman
civilization represents a pinnacle of Western cultural achievement, and so should
be regarded as an ideal to be learnt from and imitated in the present less perfect
world. Another aspect of the model, especially during the European Renaissance,
is that whereas the Spiritual model is "God-centered", the Classical model is
"man-centered". The following definition of classicism is from Michael
Greenhalgh's (1978) The Classical Tradition in Art:
Its concern is always with the ideal, in form as well as in content.
Such is the case, it is true, with virtually all artists before Romanticism,
but classical artists looked back to the ideal of Antiquity as well
as to its varied styles. They were sure that art is governed by rules
which are determined by reason. Beauty, which is one form of truth,
must depend on some system of measurement and proportion, as
Plato explained in the Timaeus; artists working from classical models
made it their business to rediscover such a system in the works of art
and buildings of Antiquity. Such an emphasis on measurement, allied
to reason, is summarized in the Vitruvian figure of a man within a
circle and a square, which expresses the concurrence between beauty,
mathematics and Man. For the Renaissance artist, Man within the
Figure 7. Stacked pilasters on the exterior of
the Colosseum, Rome, provided Renaissance circle of God, is the measure of all things, and he rules himself and
architects with a main source of ideas for his affairs by the application of reason.
designing the facades of their buildings
8. Andrea Palladio's Villa Rotunda (1552)

near Vicenza is partly modelled on the
Pantheon in Rome and is itself the model for
many other later buildings, including Lord
Burlington's Chiswick House near London and
Colin Cam bell's Mereworth Castle, Kent
The classical forms used by architects are mostly based on Roman rather than
Greek modeis. This is mainly because Roman architecture, which was itself
based on earlier Greek models, was much more varied and therefore offered
a greater range of possibilities for use by architects of a later age. For example,
whereas Greek architects only used columns as free standing elements of support,
the Romans, beginning with the Colosseum, used them as surface elements in
walls, a device much used by Renaissance architects. The Romans also created
new building types, such as the public baths, which focused attention for the
first time on the architectural treatment of interior space, as opposed to the
plastic, external architecture of the Greek temples and other public buildings.
L The Classical model is perhaps the strongest of all architects' historical influences
and survived even the overt anti-historical tendencies of the early
Modern Movement, though in a somewhat disguised form. As Colin Rowe
(1976) showed in his seminal essay on "The mathematics of the ideal villa",
for all their apparent "machine age" attributes, Le Corbusier's house at Garches
and his Villa Savoie were also strongly influenced by the classical villas of Andrea
Palladio. The plan of the house at Garches, for example, is based on similar
I " proportional systems to that which shaped the plan of Palladio's Villa in
IT Malcontenta, whilst the placement of the Villa Savoie in the open landscape
exhibits the same balanced but contrasting relations with nature as governed
L H-+ i -* i the siting and design of Palladio's country villas (see the Organic model below
i i for the classical idea of relating building to landscape). In similar fashion, Rowe's
__* _i... probing analyses exposed the Neo-Classical principles of pure geometry, universal
I I space planning and post and beam structure underlying the later "pavilion"
buildings of Mies van der Rohe. More recently, much of Norman Foster's
i ! architecture exhibits parallel tendencies. However, the efforts of Post-Modernists
U ..-4--4-. to recreate a contemporary Neo-Classicism have been considerably less subtle,
resulting in an eclectic mish-mash of classical motifs, mostly thrown together
with total disregard for authentic classical sensibilities of taste and proportion.
Figure 9. Analytical diagrams by Colin Rowe

comparing the plan of Palladio's Villa
Makontenta (top) with that of Le Corbusier's
house at Garches (bottom) (Rowe, 1976, 5)
Figure 10. The Sainsbury Centre for Visual
Arts, Norwich, England, by Norman Foster.
The critic Bob Maxwell was so struck by the
classical spirit of Foster's pavilion building
with its open ended "porticos", that he likened
it with the Parthenon. Compare also the
building's setting in the landscape with Palladio's
Villa Rotunda (Figure 8) (photograph donated
to author by Foster Associates)
Figure 11. "Post-Modern" apartment block in THE MILITARY MODEL

Bangkok demonstrates the worst excesses or that
movement. The "temple" on the roof is a Arising from the most elementary need for survival against hostile forces, the
penthouse (photograph by author) model of the fortified city, already well established in the plains cities of ancient
Mesopotamia, is also amongst the oldest of all influences on the way man has
shaped his urban environment (de la Croix, 1972; Hughes, 1976). As'well as
providing for defense, fortifications also became a source of civic pride, and
especially during the most innovatory periods of contruction after the fifteenth
century, were designed not without aesthetic sensibility. This was most apparent
iiltip- in the complete fusion of city and fortifications exemplified in the "ideal" radial
city plans drawn up by Francesco di Giorgio Martini and other Renaissance
designers (See the Utopian model below; Rosenau, 1972; Argan, 1969). The
polygonal plans and radial streets were necessary to move heavy canon and
troops from one threatened bastion to another across the shortest possible
distance. But the star shaped city, with its pointed bastions, created a powerful
image of a perfect, centralised order that appealed both to architects and their
autocratic rulers. Uneven terrain prevented the construction of many such
Figure 12. The fortified city of Mdina, Malta,
still preserves its compact image on the skyline idealized systems of fortification, but Palmanova in Italy still exists as an
(photograph by author) uncompromising demonstration of the form.
But the most effective influence of the model on the sensibilities of contemporary
architects and urban designers has been in the clear cut image the fortified city
presents of a distinctive urban and civic entity. This compact, man-made mass,
dramatic on the skyline, by necessity turning in on itself from the surrounding
countryside as a source of possible threat, still appeals to those who cannot
abide the urban and suburban sprawl afflicting modern cities, and the dissolution
of urban form and civic life that comes with it.
Fiure 13. Henning Larsen's design for the Aside from its continuing value as an image of urban form, the model was given
Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Riyadh, assimilates
various regional building forms, including desert a new twist in Oscar Newman's book, Defensible Space(1972). In a still insecure
fortresses and inward-looking courtyard world, the source of threat now comes, not only from external forces, whose
dwellings. The plan was also strongly influenced nuclear weapons now render whole populations virtually defenseless, but also
by the plan of the Taj Mahal (photograph
donated to author by Henning Larsen). from the enemy within. In many Western cities, especially in North America,
urban crime has reached such levels that the architect and urban designer now
need to focus on the neighborhood and individual home as the unit of
fortification. More conventionally, the model also surfaces from time to time as
an architectural metaphor (see the Linguistic model below) in the design of major
building projects, such as the Richards Laboratories in Philadelphia by Louis Kahn
and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Riyadh by Henning Larsen (Abel, 1985).
Figure 14. Fortress-like exterior of the MOFA,
Riyadh (photograph by author)
;*»
THE UTOPIAN MODEL

The word "utopia" comes from the famous book of the name by Thomas More
(1949), who became Chancellor of England in the time of Henry VIII. In his
book, More described in some detail the way of life and government of the
people of an imaginary perfect society on the island of Utopia. Ever since, the
word has come to refer to any imagined perfect society of the future, where all
the ills and conflicts of the world would be resolved. Utopia therefore stands for
a visionary concept of a better society than the one we have, and as such, in its
most positive aspects, provides a goal against which to measure the present
achievements of society (Hayden, 1976).
In architecture, the idea of Utopia appears in the recurrent attempts by architects
to design the "ideal city", as defined here by Helen Rosenau (1972) in her book
of the same name :
... an ideal city represents a religious vision, or a secular view, in
which social consciousness of the needs of the population is allied
with a harmonious conception of artistic unity. That an ideal
plan, when executed, generates its own problems through changing
circumstances hardly needs stressing, but its value remains unaffected
as far as it is a projection of a perfect image, a vivid expression of
optimistic faith; indeed, this is perhaps the most striking feature
Figure 15. The plan for Palmanova. as built,
the ideal images have in common: they are based on a belief in
by Cacogliatti, c. 1695 (de la Croix, 197 2) betterment, either on this earth or in the hereafter.
In some important respects, therefore, the Utopian model (as well as being
influenced, as we have seen, by the Military model) is similar to the Classical
model, in that both point to a conception of an ideal society as the basis for
architectural inspiration. However, whereas the Classical model looks backward
in history, the Utopian model looks forward to some future time, when the
world in which we live will be different from anything we have known. We might
say that in this respect the Utopian model is progressive, while the Classical model
is conservative. Nevertheless, despite this essential difference between the two
models, Utopian architects have found in the classical forms of ancient cities
a prototype for the ideal city of the future. This is not such a contradiction as
it might at first seem. Like anyone else trying to imagine the unknown, Utopian
architects must rely at least in part on something they are already familiar with
to form a suitable image, and the geometrically perfect forms of Antiquity seem
to provide a suitable inspiration for a plan based on reason (geometry being a
product of abstract reasoning).
Figure 16. Project for an ideal city by Francesco

di Giorgio Martini, c.1490 (Giedion, 1980,
153).
Figure 17. Le Corbusier's 1930 project for a
Ville Radieuse exhibits similar obsessions with
pure geometry to those which shaped earlier
Utopian schemes (Le Corbusier, 1927)
THE ORGANIC MODEL
This model points to strong relations between a building and its natural
environment (Zevi, 1950, 1978; Collins, 1965; Steadman, 1979). The idea
borrows from Darwin's theory of the evolution of natural species, and the way
each species is well-adapted to the climate and other plant and animal life in
the local area (Darwin, 1972). This suggestion in turn leads to the second aspect,
the Fitness of form to function (Benton et aL, 1975), encapsulated in the well
known phrase, "form follows function", attributed to Louis Sullivan. Organic
Figure 18. Mud-built courtyard dwellings in old forms, including the human body, are always well-adapted to purpose, such
quarter of Riyadh typify the organic model that, for example, all parts of the human body are integrated together by function
of indigenous architecture (photograph by author)
in a unity of form. Likewise, as Frank Lloyd Wright suggests, all the parts of
a building should be integrated into an organic whole (Wright, 1941).
Both of these prescriptions and the architectural ideas that follow from them
seem to suggest, quite different concerns from those which derive from the
Utopian and Classical models, with their emphasis on the ideal, whether historical
or imaginary, and the pursuit of universal forms applicable to all circumstances.
The emphasis of organic architecture, by contrast, is on the particularity of forms,
and their fitness to the specific character of places and ways of life. As we leam
also from the Identity model, contemporary architects influenced by this model
find much inspiration in the indigenous architecture of traditional cultures, where
the relative absence of change permitted a complete adaptation of building
form to the cultural environment as well as the natural ecology.
Figure 19. Plan showing the dense, "organic" Forms of nature offer powerful sources of visual inspiration for architects, and
pattern of indigenous courtyard dwellings, frequently result in quite literal imitations. Perhaps the most obvious influence
Riyadh. Culs-de-sac mark semi-private access
while throughways mark public routes. The of natural forms is to be seen in the work of Antonio Gaudi, whose architecture
straight gash through the centre is a recent seems almost to breath with life. Abstracted somewhat, but still very clear,
intrusion of modem movement systems
(Al-Hathloul, 1981) are the tree forms with trunk and branches which appear in the apartment and
Figure 23. Architects have often looked to the

mass-production of automobiles as a model
for industrialized building (photograph donated
to author by Ford Motor Corporation)
Figure 24. Industrialized high-rise housing on
Penang Island, Malaysia, looks identical to
similar projects around the world. The poor
quality of most industrialized building systems
was a major factor in negative public and
professional perceptions of the Modern
Movement (photograph by author)
Figure 26. Centre Pompidou, Paris, by Piano
and Rogers, is the most complete realization
of avant-garde projects of the 1960's for
multi-purpose, advanced technology structures
produced by the same technologically advanced methods of production as were

used to produce automobiles (Abel, 1979).
It later became clear from the fashion in which these revolutionary buildings
were eventually constructed that the early Modernists were more concerned
that a building should look like a machine, or that it had been built by one,
than that they should be as functionally efficient. Nevertheless, the Mechanical
model caught on with successive generations of architects, even up till the present
day, in its contemporary form as "high tech" architecture. Innovations in highly
flexible, or "cybernetic" methods of computer assisted manufacture (CAM) are
also beginning to make an impact on the construction industry, and can be
expected to cause many architects to revise their notions about the architectural
potential of industrialized building (Abel, 1969; 1986a).
EÜBÎI
Figure 27. Programmable industrial robots, such
as this Unimate model, reduce the need for
standardization in industry, making it possible
to design and produce customized components
for single building projects (photograph donated
to author by Unimate Industrial Robots Ltd)
28. Banking hall in the Hong Kong Bank, by

Norman Foster, suggests both "second machine
age" architecture and Gothic naves. For this
reason, the Bank is often referred to as a
"cathedral of commerce".Thealuminium cladding
was tailor-made from thousands of different
components with the help of industrial robots
(photograph donated to author by Foster
Associates)
Figure 29. Assembly Building for Saturn Rochets

Cape Kennedy, was a powerful source of ideas
to Richard Rogers, Norman Foster and other
architects wanting to make the most use of
advanced technology and engineering (Cook,
1967,61)
THE ARTISTIC MODEL

The treatment of architecture as an art form has been encouraged by the fact
that a few of the greatest architects were accomplished artists in other fields.
Michelangelo was a sculptor and painter before he became an architect, and Le
Corbusier's development as an architect mirrored his development as a painter
and sculptor (Gardiner, 1975). Renaissance architects, even when they were not
painters or sculptors themselves, sought to integrate these arts into their building
designs, and often commissioned elaborate fresco paintings for interior walls
and ceilings that sometimes dominated the interior architecture. This tradition
is still kept up, though in a less integrated fashion, through the commissioning
of abstract paintings and sculptures to complement the designs of modern
buildings.
However, aside from these attempts to combine different forms of art in a
building design, the most important influence of the model is in the treatment
of the building forms themselves as visual compositions, much as a painting or
sculpture is composed according to artistic principles of composition. For
example, Camillo Sitte (1965), the Viennese architect and planner, wrote his
book, City Planning According to Artistic Principles, in the belief that the most
satisfactory urban forms were those designed for "picturesque" effect. From his
Figure 30: Cuzco, Peru, built by Spanish studies of medieval towns in Europe, Sitte derived principles for the visual
colonists. Consciously built in imitation of
Spanish models, the picturesque town is typical composition of buildings aimed at the creation of public open spaces and pleasing
of the medieval cities and towns Camillo Sitte vistas (Collins and Collins).
held up as examplars of "the art" of urban
planning and design (photograph by author) A quite different kind of interest in the artistic model emerged in the early
Modern Movement, when architects were much influenced by the new forms
of abstract painting and sculpture then being produced by the avant-garde. For
example, the painting of Mondrian was to acquire a special importance, especially
amongst architects of the so-called De Stijl group, whose furniture and building
designs as abstract compositions of lines and planes seemed to define a new
concept of architecture as a pure art form, making painting and sculpture
(according to some) redundant as separate forms of art (Collins, 1965).
mmam The most creative recent exponent of this artistic conception of architecture
was Le Corbusier, who, after breaking with his earlier preference for the machine
aesthetic, developed a new kind of sculptural architecture. In one sense, Le
Corbusier's appreciation for plastic form was nothing new for him, since he had
always made clear his admiration for the plastic qualities of the ancient Greek
temples. But it was not till his designs for the Chapel at Ronchamp and the
public buildings at the new city of Chandigarh in India that he was able to give
full expression to his abilities as an "architectural sculptor".
Figure 31. City Hall, Dallas, by I.M. Pei, is
designed for maximum sculptural effects as
a free-standing object (photograph by author)
Figure 32. House made of steel, near Lubbock,
Texas, was designed and made by a professional
sculptor for his own use (photograph by author)
Figure 33. Le Corbusier, Pilgrimage Chapel of
Notre Dame du Hout, Ronchamps, 1955 (METU
Archive). Sculptural appearance of District
Town-Hall in Kuala Lumpur is influenced by
le Corbusier's Ronchamp and other civic buildings
in India (photographs by author)
THE LINGUISTIC MODEL

The idea that architecture is like a language, like the other models, is historically
well confirmed (Summerson, 1963). But it acquired a new import with the
emergence of Post-Modern architecture. This new movement is much concerned
with issues of meaning in architecture (Jencks and Baird, 1969; Jencks, 1977).
Post-Mpdernists criticise Modern architects for not taking responsibility for
the meanings people attach to their buildings, and pretending that they are the
inevitable result of historical process. As we are now aware, ordinary people

never liked the cool white, machine aesthetic preferred by the early Modernists,
and when they had the choice, rejected the Modernists' mass-produced apartment
blocks for more familiar and comfortable kinds of homes (Brolin, 1976).
So now Post-Modernists say that architecture should communicate more to the
users of buildings. Since human language is the most familiar form of human
communication, architects look to language to try to learn how to create an
architecture that people understand and appreciate. But what they learn from
Figure 34. Bird-like shape of TWA Terminal, this analogy depends very much on their understanding of how human language
Kennnedy Airport, New York, by Eero Saarinen, works, and since there is quite a bit of disagreement amongst even specialists
provides a powerful and easily understood in human language, we can expect architects also to be confused.
metaphor for flight (Zodiac, 54)
For example, many architects have a very simple idea about language, and think
that people can "read" a building the way we read the words on a page. So single
building elements are likened to words and the rules governing their composition
are likened to rules of grammar. We read the meaning of a church therefore,
by noting the church tower or altar, and its placement in the whole building
arrangement. The idea that building forms should be treated like veryobvious
metaphors is a variant of this approach and has produced some amusing and
spectacular architecture (Abel, 1982b). For example, Eero Saarinen designed
the TWA passenger terminal at New York airport to resemble a bird in flight,
Figure 35. Sail-like roof forms of the Opera
and Jorn Utzon designed the Sydney Opera House to resemble the sails of a
House, Sydney, by Jom Utzon, were inspired yacht in Sydney's famous harbour. These are among some of the more literal
by the building's prominent site in Sydney interpretations of the idea that architecture should "say something".
harbour (Giedion, 1980, 680).
But these sorts of interpretations of the Linguistic model miss out the deeper
functions of human language, and which relate with the Identity model (Abel,
1980b; 1981a). Every person knows how much of his own identity is tied up
with his national language. In this sense, language is more than just a form of
communication, it provides a framework for social experience. This is a complex
idea, but if properly understood by architects, might encourage them away from
the free and flippant use of architectural "quotations", in the direction of more
serious and consistent forms of architecture conducive to cultural identities.
And just as there are regional dialects of language, so would we expect there
to be regional variations in architectural "languages".
THE COMMERCIAL MODEL
The use of this model arises out of a total rejection of the European tradition
of architecture and city planning as the manipulation of internal and external
spaces. Its best known exponent, the American architect and theorist, Robert
Venturi (1966; 1972), argues that this space-oriented conception of architectural
Figure 36. Hot-dog stand, Los Angeles, and urban form has been overtaken and outdated by new forms of dispersed
communicates its purpose in a direct and urban development made possible by the universal use of the motor car and
amusing fashion (photograph by author)
telephone (Clay, 1973).
The spatial character of the traditional European city to which Venturi refers
is exemplified by the enclosed space of the Italian piazza , or public square. By
contrast, the typical American pattern of urban development is the exact reverse
in terms of spatial quality. Buildings stand in spatial isolation from each other,
vmmm laid out in seemingly endless gridlike patterns of roadways which reduce the
sharp distinction between city and country typical of the more compact European
model. Dwellings are single family units, each with its own garden and garage
for the essential automobile, making up the popular "suburban" residential areas
which now surround even most older cities in other parts of the world. In order
to be close to the customers, the " down-town" commercial centers of older cities
are increasingly displaced by "out-of-town" shopping centers and other
commercial outlets, usually strung along the main highways like beads on a string.
Appreciation of building form and urban space in this situation, argues Venturi,
Figure 37. The Strip, Las Vegas, presents a is irrelevant, because different criteria apply. The slow moving viewpoint of the
brilliant kaleidoscope of messages oriented pedestrian is no longer of any consequence, because all human movement is now
exclusively to the mobile consumer and
fun-seeker (photograph by author) by the fast-moving automobile.
In order to design buildings for this new, mobile society, Venturi suggests that
architects should give up looking for guidance to the European model of the
"spatial city", and look instead at those commercial building forms which have
emerged (without the benefit of professional architects) out of a direct response
to the commercial requirements of the "non-spatial", dispersed,
automobile-oriented city. This "commercial vernacular" is best exemplified,
according to Venturi (who disclaims the implied values) by the buildings of
Las Vegas, a gambling and entertainment resort city in the state of Nevada.
'/
Figure 38. Suburban metropolis in Nassau

County, Long Island. Much of this area was
developed after 1945 and is based on almost
universal car ownership. THE IDENTITY MODEL
Figure 39. The design of some signs in Las Vegas
achieves "pop-art" {photograph by author)
This model has its roots in a reaction against the worship of science and pure
reason, which came to its first peak in the Age of Enlightenment of the eighteenth
Figure 40. Drive-in restaurant, Los Angeles.
Mobile consumers park alongside a menu stand century. The Romantics, as artists and intellectuals such as Johann Gottfried
outside the restaurant and place their prder by Herder (1744-1803) were called, sought an alternative to the universal culture
phone, which is then brought out to them by
a waiter and consumed in the car (photograph forms assumed to be in keeping with a rational society, and emphasized instead
by author) the unique attributes of different regional cultures (Brolin, 1976, Abel, 1981b).
The new respect for regional forms of culture led architects to look upon
traditional or indigenous building forms as appropriate models for imitation.
Like organic forms of life, they appeared to architects to grow directly out of
the regional environment. This was recognised by Frank Lloyd Wright, who
brought Romantic values into the Modem Movement in architecture, and saw
in the "folk architecture" of Italian hill towns and the like, an inspiration foran
authentic American architecture, also founded on organic principles, and springing
from regional resources (Wright, 1941).
Most recently, the search for "regional architecture" has become intensified with
the rejection of the standardised forms of orthodox Modern architecture, and the
suppressive effect such forms have had on local building and urban traditions.
Thus many contemporary architects now try, with varying degrees of success,
to borrow from local traditions to create an architecture which relates to the past,
as well as to present demands. One outcome of this redirection is an increasing
tendency to preserve or adapt existing building of historical value, rather than
tearing it down to make way for the new, and also to blend new buildings in
with the old in more sensitive ways (Insall, 1972; Brolin, 1980;Abel, 1986b).
Figures 41, 42. National Museum, Kuala Lumpur At another level, Norberg-Schulz (1974; 1980) draws upon existential philosophy
(below) is designed in imitation cf Malay
indigenous architecture (above) so as to project
to explain man's need to identify with his environment. For Norberg-Schulz,
an image of cultural identity (photographs architecture is equivalent to the philosopher Martin Heidegger's concept of
by author) "dwelling", which may be understood as an active process of human engagement
with the earthly landscape. Thus, as Norberg-Schulz puts it, the very idea of
what it is to be human being is tied up with the idea of "dwelling": "Human
identity presupposes the identity of place" (Norberg-Schulz, 1980).
Other writers emphasize the .importance of being able to interact in a personal
way with architecture, most of all in the home, in order to allow proper
expression of the personalities and social status of the occupants. In this case
the focus upon the relations of identity between home and occupant provides
Figure 43. The Aga Khan University and Hospital the common theme. Some argue for "open-ended" design in housing to permit
complex, Karachi, by Payette Associates, was
designed after extensive research into Islamic users to take an active role in the design of their homes. Here the Identity model
architecture and combines traditional planning overlaps with the Self-Build model (see below). For example, Turner (1976)
principles with modern building forms
(photograph donated to author by The Aga
argues that self-built housing provides a means of meeting not only the practical
Khan Award for Architecture)
44. Diplomatic Club, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia,

by Omrania and Frei Otto, conjures up regional
images of desert tents and fortresses and blends
in perfectly with the surrounding landscape
(photograph donated to author by the Aga
Khan Award for Architecture)
Figure 45. Redevelopment of the Hafsia Quarter

in the Medina or old town of Tunis, won an
Aga Khan Award for Architecture for its regional
character and sensitivity to context (photograph
by author)
need for low cost shelter, but equally important, the need for the expression of
personal and social identity, which comes from having control over one's home
and neighborhood.
THE SELF-BUILD MODEL

In some respects, this model also belongs in the process category, since, as will
be clear, the idea of self-help behind it is a very broad one, and concerned as
Figure 46. Self-buiit housing on Penang Island,
Malaysia (photograph by author) much with means as with ends. Yet the architectural implications are so
immediate, that it has little in common with the abstract preoccupations that
typify the use of the process models that follow, and is therefore included in
the formal category.
It might also be argued that this model, though the least used by professional
architects, is the most important of all our models, certainly for the poor people
of the world. It has been estimated that some 800 million people in developing
countries lack adequate basic shelter. By the end of this century, that number
will increase by 1000 million, most of whom will live on the edges of the already
swollen major cities of the Third World.
Figure 47. Basic shelters buiit from reed mats It is difficult even to imagine the scale of this problem of the world's homeless,
on the cutskirts of Lima, Peru (photograph
by author) let alone find solutions. Clearly, there can be little hope of any real change in
this growing human tragedy without enormous economic aid to those countries
with the worst housing problems, who are too poor to find solutions entirely
on their own. Nevertheless, a great deal can be done in making the most of the
initiative and desire of the disadvantaged to help themselves. This idea of
"self-help" is the basis for the Self-Build model, which is one aspect of a broader
effort on the part of poor people to make the best of their own limited resources,
where government aid is not available. As Peter Ward (1982) explains in his
critique of the model, the idea of self-help goes beyond problems of housing:
It refers also to employment, welfare, churches, medical services
and infrastructure. Self-help may involve individual as well as group
inputs and corresponds to a system of production, financing, and
maintenance in which a significant part is organised and carried
Figure 48. "Cognitive profile" elicited by the out by the person or group. Usually it involves them in an incursion
implication grid method in a pilot sturjy carried into functions that would normally be the responsibility of either
out by the author with the help of students
at Portsmouth Polytechnic (Abel, 1975b). The the public or private sectors, ~who are either unable, or unwilling
method requires that the subject states whether to provide that service. Only occasionally does self-help result from
or not changes along one construct dimension a genuine act cf love or wish on the part of the individual or group
imply an effect on any other construct in the
subject's system. In the graph, constructs (nodes)
to build their own house.
are ordered vertically according to the number
of links (arcs) implied by other constructs. The Though we may therefore find cases, in the U.S.A. for example, where the idea
greater the number of implications the more of building your own home is motivated by a creative impulse ss well as
important the construct, and, according to considerations of cost (Kern, 1972), for most people the motivation is sheer
Hinkle (1966), the more resistant to change.
The strong hierarchy evident in this particular necessity. Unless poor people build their own homes, they will not otherwise
profile suggests a comparatively rigid mentality. have any homes at all.
PROCESS ANALOGIES
THE SCIENTIFIC MODEL

As we have seen, Modern architects have been much influenced by the
achievements of science to produce a "rational" architecture, in keeping with the
scientific spirit of the times. Such an architecture was not only intended to make use
of the most advanced technologies, but more importantly, was to be based on the
same kind of general laws that scientists sought to explain both natural and
human phenomena. Since, in the early part of the twentieth century, both
physical and human scientists based their theories on a mechanical, or
deterministic model of the universe, so also did architects believe that the
relations between society and architecture were deterministic. By changing one,
therefore, change could be effected in the other. Thus the coming of the "good
society" could be hastened by building the new (scientific) architecture, which
in any case was an inevitable part of the same historical process.
More recently, the influence of science upon architecture has taken a more direct
turn. Increasingly, architectural teachers and researchers are looking to the
theories and methods of scientists to help them both explain the nature of
architecture and improve its quality. These efforts are divided between the
evaluation of the physical performance of buildings in regard to energy use,
etc. (Friedman et al, 1978), and exploration of the behavioural relations between
people and buildings (Rapoport, 1969; 1977). The latter area is by far the more
problematic, and till recently the results were slim, largely due to the continuing
influence of mechanical models of behaviour upon both human scientists, and
now "environmental psychologists", as the new breed of researchers like to be
called.
However, recent changes in basic theories of human behaviour (Kelly, 1963;
Blumer, 1969; Giddens, 1976) have led to consequent improvements in both the
theories and methods adopted in the environmental sciences. Much of the newer
work in environmental psychology now focuses on how people «interpret their
environment, rather than merely respond (in mechanical fashion) to it
(Proshansky, et al, 1976;Broadbent et al, 1980b; Abel, 1984). Aside from
encouraging a greater sentivity to the varied interpretations of different users
Figure 49. Architrainer, an experiment

in computer-aided instruction (CA1) devised by
the author, makes use of techniques derived from
George Kelly's personal construct psychology
(Kelly, 1955) as well as CAI to improve
communication and understanding between
architects and their clients. Kelly defines a
construct as a pair of bi-polar concepts, ie.,
"modern-traditional", * which between them
establish a way of differentiating between
relevant subjects of interest. According to
Kelly, an individual is unique by virtue of the
way he uses a particular range of constructs
to structure his perception of a given topic. He
devised a methodology, "repertory grid
technique", to elicit an individual's "personal
construct system". Architrainer consists
of an interactive computer programme which
includes a "client model" based on a subject's
personal construct system and a linked display
board showing the array of colour photographs
of buildings [eg., houses of varying styles) used
to elicit the uses a construct to differentiate
amongst one group of buildings and then invites
him or her to empathize with the client and
guess how he perceives a different group cf
buildings (Abel, 1975a)(photograph by author)
of buildings (which often differ from architects' interpretations), it has also

served to generate new insights into how people identify with their surroundings.
For example, Kevin Lynch (1970) brought scientific theory and method to
bear on studies of the relations between the formal characteristics of cities and
problems of human orientation. Lynch's pioneering studies of the mental images
people had of the cities in which they lived, spawned a whole new subject called
"cognitive mapping" (Downs and Stea, 1977). The significance now attached to
the concept of "place identity" as the interrelation of cognitive processes, social
activity and formal attributes of the built and natural landscape is one of the
more important results of this research (Canter, 1977).
THE SYSTEMS MODEL

This model originates in the efforts of scientists, notably Ludwig von Bertallanfy
(1968), to unify the different branches of science by a common framework of
ideas of great generality. The term "system" itself denotes a concern with the
abstract relations between some combination of elements, be they human beings
or microscopic cells, rather than with the specific character of those elements.
The outcome, General System Theory, proved so successful, not only in this aim,
but also in generating new insights into other fields, including architecture and
planning (Ferguson, 1975), that though it is a direct product of scientific thought,
it deserves consideration on its own as a relatively new model.
In addition to its scientific origins, many of the key ideas of G.S.T. derive in turn
from analogies between the behaviour of human systems and organic phenomena.
For example, systems theorists are much interested in the elusive qualities of
wholeness which we recognise easily enough both in organic systems and the
well-organised and purposeful behaviour of an effective social system, but, as
laymen, are hard put to explain. It is the aim of the systems theorist to elucidate
the underlying processes of "self-regulation" which generate and sustain this
"holistic" property, in human society as in nature (Emery, 1969).
An important new dimension in the concern with urban systems has been the
increasing awareness of how easily ill considered urban growth and
industrialization can upset natural ecologies, such as in the devastating effects
of acid rain. This relatively recent awareness of the delicate balance between
man-made and natural systems has spawned new approaches, sometimes called
"eco-development", suggesting how human development should proceed in
harmony with nature, rather than in opposition to it (McHarg, 1971; Meier, 1974;
Bartelmus, 1986).
Also promising are architects' attempts to produce an "autonomous architecture",
in which energy is derived only from local natural sources, and where waste is
recycled to generate more energy (Vale, 1975). Thus knowledge at a more general
level of how natural systems work lends powerful support to the use of the
Organic model in architecture, not only as a source of visual inspiration, but
also as an urgent matter of human survival.
It should be noted that the use of the word "system" in "system building" has
little to do with the above ideas and concerns. On the contrary, it is apparent
that most building systems are the outcome of too much concentration on the
parts, or "components" of a building, and too little attention given to the quality
of the whole (Russell, 1982). Better awareness of the potential of the advanced
manufacturing processes mentioned above (Abel, 1969;1986a), as well as of the
natural and cultural ecologies in which such buildings must be used, might help
to improve their generally poor enviromental quality.
THE SEMIOTIC MODEL

The Semiotic model bears the same relation to the Linguistic and Identity models
as the Systems model bears to the Organic model. Whereas the Linguistic model
appeals to more direct images of what architects can or should "say" with their
designs, the Semiotic model aims to reveal to us those more general processes of
communication which underlie specific language forms and social identities.
Also, like General System Theory, from which it borrows some of its key ideas
and methods, semiotics, or the "science of signs" as it is known, is interdisciplinary.
It aims to provide ideas and methods applicable, not just to the study of human
language, but also to all non-verbal forms of human communication, and even
to the study of communication amongst animals. In this broader study, all the
forms and products of human culture are treated as "signs", therefore stand for
something to somebody, and enter into some form of communication by which
human experience is structured, and made meaningful (Hawkes, 1977).
This emphasis on the structuring of experience is vital, since communications
theorists used to think, and many architects still do, that language is
something used to express already existing ideas, the two being somehow
independent of each other. Yet most semioticians now acknowledge that the way
we look at the world, and how we deal with it, depends on the language we use.
Our perception of reality is, so to speak, built into our language, and, as Edward
Sapir (1929) and Benjamin Lee Whorf (1956) put it, different languages embody
different "worlds of reality'!
In a similar way, buildings are also "signs", and enter into the process of structuring
experience by the meanings they have for people (Bonta, 1979; Oliver, 1980).
How we approach this difficult problem of the meaning of architecture depends,
as already suggested, on the particular theory favoured. Most derive from the
works of either Charles Pierce (1940) or Ferdinand de Saussure (1960), the
founders of the new field. However, the approach most favoured here derives
from Wittgenstein (1953), who suggested the deceptively simple phrase, "meaning
is use". Thus the meaning of the word "Bishop" in a game of chess - a favourite
analogy of his - lies in the uses to which the chesspiece is put, according to the
rules of the game. This in turn implies that we can only understand the meaning
of "Bishop" when we consider all the other chess pieces as well, and how the rules
of the game allow each to be used in relation to all the others. Since, according
to Wittgenstein, all human behaviour is rule-based (otherwise there could be no
consistency of behaviour, and hence no shared meaning), the analogy extends
to all forms of human meaning.
So it is that Wittgenstein directs our attention to the importance of the social
context of meaning (Winch, 1958). Nothing is understood in isolation, but always
with reference to its social purpose. In similar fashion, we comprehend the
meaning of a building form according to how it is used, not just in terms of
its immediate function, but also in the larger context of the social rules which
govern its use. Thus we return to the key relations between architecture and social
identity. For the conclusion to be drawn from this broader understanding of
architecture as communication must be that architecture, like language, is not
the simple product or expression of some independent social reality, but is one
of the principal ways in which social reality is "encoded" (Abel, 1980a; 1980b;
1981a).
THE LEGAL MODEL
In the Semiotic model, reference has already been made to the rule-based character
of human behaviour (Emmet, 1966). The legal model extends this conception
in terms more familiar to the layperson.
Protection of neighbor's rights of privacy and access has been an established
feature of law in some parts of the world for many centuries (Hakim, 1986).
Today's sophisticated building bye-laws extend such protection of the public and
individual (the purpose of all legal constraints) to ensure sound and safe
construction. Aesthetic guidelines have also been enforced, at least since the
building of Amsterdam, and are now commonly invoked to protect officially
designated conservation areas and buildings of historical worth from undesirable
change.
In such ways, the Legal model has clear prescriptive functions, affecting the
direction and quality of architectural design. Nevertheless, unless a specific
guideline is known, and in what architectural context it is to be followed, it is
not possible to derive a concrete image of form from the Legal model, in the
same way that formal models invoke architectural images.
Other uses of the model also suggest that it belongs in the process category.
These relate to its explanatory function in providing insights into the nature
of architectural tradition. For example, it has been suggested by Collins (1971)
and William Hubbard (1978) that the conventions of architecture may be likened
to legal conventions, which are based on the importance of precedent in case
law. Judgements made in any specific legal case are always made by reference
to what judgements were previously passed in cases of the same type. Departures
from precedent are possible, but usually only occur when it can be clearly
demonstrated that circumstances, including public opinion, have changed so
much that previous authority is no longer valid. Even so, such changes in the law
usually involve a reinterpretation, or adaptation of existing conventions, rather
than their outright rejection. In this manner, continuity and public understanding
of the law is maintained, and by implication, continuity and security of social
custom.
Such a model of slowly evolving conventions based on precedent has many
attractions for those alienated by the revolutionary changes brought in by the
Modernists. Though architects have neither clear obligation to follow precedent,
or to set out their reasons for making specific decisions the way that judges
have to, they are also normally heavily reliant on existing buildings of
acknowledged merit, or "case studies", in order to learn how to resolve the many,
often conflicting requirements with which they are faced. The other compelling
reason for taking precedent seriously, is that, as in law, the authority of precedent
ultimately derives from social acceptance. No matter what any individual judge
may feel about the law or its application, he cannot change it arbitrarily, for to
do so would be to put the support of the society at risk. That is just what
architects also risk by arbitrarily rejecting historical precedent and previously
sanctioned traditions.
SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION

A major problem facing both the architectural theorist and educator, concerns
how and why it is that architects follow the design approach they use. As we
have suggested, this problem hardly arises in traditional societies, where
architectural customs are firmly established and rarely departed from, any more
than other customs. But from theforegoinğdiscussion, it will be evident that the
use of theoretical models by definition involves an important element of
innovation. Even when a dominant model is established, the analogical processes
involved provide opportunity for seemingly endless variety in interpretation of
the central metaphor (Abel, 1982b).
At one level then, we can say that the principal themes and values any significant
model embodies have as their origin similar themes and values to be found in the
myths and mores of the larger society. This is very clear in the 2500 year
evolution of the Classical model in Western architecture, which still provides
many contemporary architects with their main sources of inspiration. The specific
historical and social context in which the model has emerged as a dominant force
in architecture has changed almost beyond recognition in each of its main phases.
Yet certain enduring obsessions in Western culture, having to do with the search
for ideal forms, rationality, and geometric systems of proportion, have kept
the model going. These themes, though much written about and discussed, also
operate throughout Western culture in a mostly subliminal fashion, to shape
the architect's predisposition toward a certain way of building. If it were not for
such deep rooted cultural and mythic origins, no model could endure for long,
or achieve the social legitimacy required to gain a firm hold upon the general
public, as well as architects' imaginations.
LEARNING BY EXAMPLE
Nevertheless, the emergence of architectural subcultures, at least as early as
ancient Greece and Rome, is an equally important social factor in understanding
the historical evolution of each major model, and how it is that architects learn
to use and manipulate such models. This arises primarily from the influence
and power these subcultures have over the education and professional
development of architects. More specifically, architectural subcultures are largely
responsible for the selection and propagation of those key exemplars of a given
form of architecture from which architects assimilate the underlying values
involved, often without realizing it. For architects learn best by example, and
acquire their understanding of both theory and method involved in reproducing
a particular model by reference to how other architects made exceptionally good
use of the same or similar theories and methods.
Though this is a time honoured method, and characterizes ancient systems of
apprenticeship, as well as the studio teaching methods used in most contemporary
schools of architecture, we should not regard it as outdated. Aside from the Legal
model, the method is validated by other analogies. As Polanyi (1958; 1966)
and Kuhn (1962; 1977) have shown, the use of precedent is essential for the
assimilation of all complex forms of knowledge, even in the sciences, where we
are led to believe the highest value is placed on explicit and abstract knowledge.
Like scientific "paradigms", architectural traditions are established on the basis
of repeated reference to the same key historical exemplars, only significant
buildings rather than ground-breaking experiments. There is just no other way
to absorb the complex and subtle concepts and rules of application involved in
the use of any major theoretical model, other than by study of those better
buildings which demonstrate how previous architects managed it well (Abel,
1981c). Neither does the use of precedent hinder creativity, as is often supposed,
for as we have also leamt from the way analogical models function, all creativity
involves a reworking of existing ideas and conventions. Rather than obstruct
the creative process, convention is an essential prerequisite for creativity.
TENSION BETWEEN ARCHITECTURE AND SOCIETY

We can summarize the relations between an architectural subculture and other
forms of society in the following way. These relations all revolve around the
important concept of a building type, and its function in society. Building types
are one way in which society encodes and reproduces itself. In effect, every
conventional building type embodies a specific social programme which
architects must fulfill in order to produce a functioning and useful building.
The specific client's brief is therefore usually a more detailed version, with minor
variations, of familiar requirements. To this task the architect brings with him
his own architectural programme, embodied in the form of his preferred
theoretical model. This too, has its origins in the larger society, but also in an
architectural subculture, which has influenced the development of the model
according to its own "internal" criteria.
To the architect who has a building to design, the building type is therefore
usually a given, and already suggests most of the social functions to be specified
in more detail by the architect and client. However, the architect's interpretation
and treatment of those functions, and the ultimate form of the building, depends
upon his or her theoretical model. We might equally say, it depends upon
the architect's style. For the word style refers to those consistencies of approach
and form we recognise when the same theoretical model is used in a similar
way on different building types.
Thus the potential for "gaps" to emerge between an architect's particular
interpretation and society's conventional programmes, derives from two main
sources. First, it arises in an architectural subculture's influence on the
development of the architect's theoretical model, which, though also culturally
derived, is shaped in significant ways by the subculture's selection of key
exemplars of theory and method, even sometimes where these have not received
social sanction. Second, it arises in the wide leeway for individual interpretation
which all powerful analogical models seem to allow for, and even encourage.
Such gaps can be harmful, as we have seen in the emergence and rejection by
Western society of orthodox Modern architecture. In this case, it was the specific
interpretation early Modernists placed upon widely shared beliefs in the powers of
science and technology that led them astray (even then, Modern architecture
could never have had the impact it has had if its doctrines of total renewal and
standardization did not accord very well with the concerns of at least some
important sectors of society with a vested interest in large scale construction
projects - namely government agencies, property developers and the construction
industry). More typically, taking the longer historical view, architects have
generally managed very well in maintaining an acceptable balance between respect
for tradition and social acceptance, and creative interpretation of the social
programme.
PRODUCT OR PROCESS?
At this point, it will already be apparent that the approach presented here to
understanding how theoretical models work derives in part (there are other
important philosophical sources mentioned in the introduction) from those
same process models described above. In this way, process models, necessarily
tempered by social and architectural history, fulfill a more general explanatory
function, in so far as they are capable of offering explanations as to how any
formal analogy is used by an architect to achieve both his immediate and cultural
aims.
The emergence of these superordinate models as an influence on the course of
architectural development is a relatively recent phenomenon in architectural
history. As we noted, the early Modernists were also persuaded by the
achievements of science to regard their own efforts as part of an historical process,
and borrowed prevailing deterministic explanations of that process. But they
remained architects first and foremost, still mostly concerned with the formal
images they believed appropriate to a scientific age. This is still true of
contemporary architects, their exposure to the highly abstract concerns of process
models being usually confined to their student years. It is the professional
academic researcher or critic who is most committed to the development and
propagation of these models, since he is directly concerned with the explanation
of architecture, whereas the practitioner is still most interested in the more
tangible problems of what to build and how to build.
In an ideal world, we might therefore expect that the future architect assimilates
both kinds of models, the formal models as direct sources of architectural
tradition and inspiration, and the process models as sources of more general
explanatory theory. However, what is happening now in. many schools of
architecture is something else. Since the careers of many teachers and researchers are
now firmly bound up with studies of process models, in some schools such studies
are now edging out the more traditional studies of formal models, to the point
where the focus of study is no longer architecture, but the environmental or
building "sciences".
If the aim of such schools were to produce professional scientists, then the trend
would be acceptable. But they still graduate architects, and for this reason it is
not. It is true that process models also provide powerful sources of integrating
ideas, and are often presented as such by their advocates. But these ideas are of
a different sort from the solid images derived from formal models, and operate
at more abstract cognitive levels (formal models also involve processes of
abstraction, as we have seen, but the properties abstracted are formal properties
with direct architectural implications). Frequently, also, they are discussed
without reference to any historical dimension, which severly limits their
explanatory potential. Though, correctly used, process models can therefore
provide useful insights into the nature of architecture, and help to evaluate it,
they can never displace formal models as the main sources of those integrating
ideas essential to the production of architectural form.
The teaching of formal models is, as we have seen, generally achieved by reference
to historical exemplars. By this means students assimilate the complexities of
architectural design by process of immersion, not unlike the way we learn how
to speak a language, to borrow a model again. Critical awareness is ensured by
exposure to the alternative approaches embodied in different models, presenting,
in effect, different worlds of architectural and social reality. Architectural
teachers can put the explanatory theories they derive from study of process
models to greatest purpose by using such knowledge to guide students efficiently
through the most important sources of design ideas, which are real buildings
of exemplary quality. And design researchers would do well to test their often
highly esoteric notions of what the "design process" is, against some of the actual
products of that process, the buildings themselves. In the final analysis, these
are the main depositories of architectural wisdom.
MİMARLIK VE KENTSEL TASARIMDA BENZEŞİM MODELLERİ
ÖZET
Atındı:3i.io.i988; Mimarlık.ve kentsel tasarım kuramı dersine giriş olarak 1984 yılında hazırlanan
Anahtar Sözcükler : Mimarı Tasarım, Mimarlık , , . , , . , - - , . , ,. . . . , . • , ,
Kuramları, Benzeşim Modelleri bu makale, eleştirel görecelik (critical relativism) ve benzetmecı (metaphorical)
yaratıcılık kuramları konularında, yazarın daha önceki yazılarına dayanmaktadır.
Mimarlık konularının, alışılagelen şekilde bina tipi, teknoloji, estetik, gibi ayrı
başlıklar altında incelenmesi, özelleşen bazı çalışmalar için yararlı olabilir. Ancak
bu ne mimarlığın bütüncü (holistic) karakterini açıklayabilir, ne de öğrencilerin
tasarlamalarına yardım eder. Gerekli olan, mimarlığın farklı yönlerini
kaynaştırarak bütün haline getirecek "bütünleştirici fikirler"dir (integrating,
ideas). Kuramsal modellerin sunduğu yorumsal çerçeve, mimarların tasarıma
yaklaşımlarını tutarlı bir fikirler ve değerler sistemi olarak şekillendirmelerine
yardım edecektir.
Bilimde de bütün kuramsal modeller, iki ayn şey arasındaki benzetmeye (analogies)
dayanır: tanıdık bir kavram (kaynak fikir) ve çözüm bekleyen şey. Böylece
kuramlar, dünyamızın bir yönüyle ilgili belirsizlikleri azaltmaya, ve bu dünyayla
ilişkimizi daha etkili bir hale getirmeye yardım eder. Modeller bizce bilinen
birşeyle kurdukları ilinti yoluyla bu sonuca ulaşırlar.
Mimarlık ve kentsel tasarımda kullanılan benzetim modelleri aynen bu şekilde
işlev görürler. Burada bilinmeyen, tasarlanacak bina, yani mimarın binayı
yaratırken gözönüne alması gereken bütün değişik faktörler arasındaki ilişkiler
sistemidir.
Mimara pratik bir yol gösterici olma niteliklerinden dolayı, benzetim modelleri,
reçete gibi işlev görürler; diğer bir deyimle, mimarlara neyi, nasıl inşa etmeleri
konulannda fikir verirler. Bir kez tanımladıktan sonra, aynı modeller bir mimarın,
bir binayı neden başka bir şekilde değil de yapmış olduğu şekilde tasarladığını
açıklamada kullanılabilir. Bu kullanımlarıyla, benzetim modelleri, açıklayıcı
olmaktadırlar.
Burada, onbeş değişik andırışsal model tanımlanmakta, tarihte ve yakın
zamandaki kullanımlarıyla ilgili örnekler verilmektedir. Bunlar içinde belirgin
iki ana tip vardır: mimarlara doğrudan biçimsel imgeler (formal imagery) sunanlar
ve daha yaygınlıkla genellikle çok değişik süreçleri içerenler. İlk gruptaki onbir
model: Tinsel Model; Klasik Model; Askeri Model; Ütopik Model; Mekanik Model;
Artistik Model; Dilbilimsel Model; Ticari Model; Kimlik (identity) Modeli; ve
Kendin-Yap (self-build) Modeli; ikinci gruptakiler ise Bilimsel Model; Sistem
Modeli; Anlambilimsel (semiotic) Model ve Yasal Model.
Sonuç bölümünde mimarların neden belirli bir model seçtikleri konusu

tartışıldıktan sonra, belli örneklerin seçilmesi yoluyla tasanm bilgisinin
transferinde, mimarlık alt-kültürlerinin rolü açıklanmaktadır. Mimarlık eğitiminde
süreç modellerinin açıklayıcı değeri vurgulanırken, tasarım fikirlerinin oluşması
için gerekli olan, daha geleneksel, biçimsel modellerin gözardı ediimemesi
istenmektedir.
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METUJFA 1988

ANALOGICAL MODELS IN ARCHITECTURE

manageable components. In my own classes, I have also found it convenient

distinguishing characteristic. Further, the distinction points to a recent theoretical

THE SPIRITUAL MODEL

THE CLASSICAL MODEL

8. Andrea Palladio's Villa Rotunda (1552)

Figure 9. Analytical diagrams by Colin Rowe

Figure 11. "Post-Modern" apartment block in THE MILITARY MODEL

THE UTOPIAN MODEL

Figure 16. Project for an ideal city by Francesco

THE ORGANIC MODEL

Figure 23. Architects have often looked to the

produced by the same technologically advanced methods of production as were

28. Banking hall in the Hong Kong Bank, by

Figure 29. Assembly Building for Saturn Rochets

THE ARTISTIC MODEL

THE LINGUISTIC MODEL

inevitable result of historical process. As we are now aware, ordinary people

THE COMMERCIAL MODEL

Figure 38. Suburban metropolis in Nassau

44. Diplomatic Club, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia,

Figure 45. Redevelopment of the Hafsia Quarter

THE SELF-BUILD MODEL

THE SCIENTIFIC MODEL

Figure 49. Architrainer, an experiment

of buildings (which often differ from architects' interpretations), it has also

THE SYSTEMS MODEL

THE SEMIOTIC MODEL

SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION

TENSION BETWEEN ARCHITECTURE AND SOCIETY

MİMARLIK VE KENTSEL TASARIMDA BENZEŞİM MODELLERİ

Sonuç bölümünde mimarların neden belirli bir model seçtikleri konusu

ABEL, C. (1968) Evolutionary Planning, Architectural Design (38) 563-564.

ALEXANDER, C. (1964) Notes on the Synthesis of Form, Harvard University

AL-HATHLOUL, S.A. (1981) "Tradition, Continuity and Change in the Physical

EMERY, F.E. (1969) Systems Thinking, Penguin Books, Harmondsworth.

LEATHERDALE, W.H. (1974) The Role of Analogy, Model, and Metaphor in

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